


Fun With Cones

by cyanideinsomnia



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Drinking, Friends With Benefits, Living Dildo, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Valve Play (Transformers), misuse of a conehead's cone head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24178885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanideinsomnia/pseuds/cyanideinsomnia
Summary: “Just this once, yeah? You game?”“You’re just pickin’ on me cause my name is Thrust, aren’t ya?”
Relationships: Astrotrain/Thrust, Astrotrain/Thrust's head
Kudos: 35





	Fun With Cones

**Author's Note:**

> circa 2015 someone asked my astrotrain rp blog about fucking a conehead's cone head and i got Inspired

It was one of those days.

Well, technically it wasn't restrained to just one day. It was a gradual, subtle thing that made itself known over time, a warm, visceral ache inside him that kept getting worse until he found himself knuckle-deep in his own valve and wondering why his damn hands were so _small_.

They really weren't. He had more experiences proving they were too large than anything. But in a time like this, he just wanted to be filled.

It would be easier if he wasn't the biggest thing in the Decepticon base. If he was a Seeker, or hell, even one of Soundwave's minicons, he could just jump onboard the nearest larger mech and ride the cravings away.

But the only mecha on _this entire planet_ larger than he was - barring the combined gestalts - happened to be on the wrong side of the war. And trying to arrange a 'date' with him was more effort than he wanted.

Astrotrain would have to be creative.

Which was why, late one night when most of his "crew" were off-shift for once, nose deep in an experimental brew he'd created out of frustration, the shuttle took one look at Thrust and began to get.. _ideas._

It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about it before. One of those, haha, your helm is vaguely spike-shaped joking sort of thoughts.

But right now, valve too warm and too empty, his own less phallic helm floating off on a cocktail that'd probably kill him if he kept drinking it, he started to seriously consider it.

He was only vaguely aware the conversations around him had begun to die down as the assembled mecha began to notice he wasn't all there.

"What're you lookin' at me like that for?" Thrust grunted over his cube, eyeridge raised.

"Like what?"

A snort. "You know like what. My aft's on the other end of my frame."

The triplechanger's optics flickered back towards his cube, the Conehead's trinemates waggling their afts at him and giggling, Skywarp snorting into his own highgrade. They all knew he was a highly sexual mech. He figured that was partly why they hung out with him. That sort of guarantee _someone's_ going back to berth happy.

It was that guarantee that meant he only felt sort of awkward breaching the subject swirling in his helm.

A light chuckle, lips twitching up in a half-cocked grin all assembled knew exactly what it meant - either a good idea, a bad idea, or a bad idea so bad it was good.

"I was just thinkin'.. your helm. It's shaped like.. y'know, right?" His free hand sat uncomfortably close to his closed valve paneling, and it may have dropped a bit as he leaned forward, drawing attention to it. "You think maybe we could..?"

Thrust stared at him, blinked, and then laughed. "You ... wanna frag my head??"

"Well, I mean, you guys go through how many cones in a week?"

"About 10." Ramjet supplied, a little too eagerly.

"Yeah. So it's not like you'll be wearin' my fluids forever or anything, and I'll let you have free reign of your hands n' slag as long as the most important bit's up in there."

A light shudder, echoed in red plating. Thrust was starting to consider it, too.

"Just this once, yeah? You game?"

"You're just pickin' on me cause my name is _Thrust_ , aren't ya?" The red Seeker snorted before downing his cube and obediently making his way across the circle to the larger mech, indicating that not only was he willing to do it, he was willing to do it right here, right now, with an audience. He had to admit, the eager optics around them sent an extra thrill through the shuttle's backstruts. "Though m'pretty sure it wouldn't work the same if it was _Dirge_ doin' it."

Astrotrain just chuckled, trying to imagine dirty talk around Dirge. Ramjet was a little closer, but you couldn't go wrong with a good _Thrust._

As the smaller mech approached, large thighs automatically slid apart, panel clicking open with a soft hiss and a low groan from cool, stale air on heated equipment. His fingers were already idly brushing against exposed nodes, a little lubricant trickling out onto the floor. Smaller fingers joined them, pressing inside him and getting a good feel of the width. It was slick and hot, just _waiting_ for something to fill him up.

"Is it gonna fit?" Thrust muttered, voice thick with anxiety and anticipation. "I ain't takin' responsibility if I pop somethin' open."

The train attempted to say something along the lines of 'we'll make it fit', but it just came out a static-laced gurgle as the blunt tip of the cone was pressed into his valve, its owner holding the edges of the opening as far apart as he could get them with his thumbs.

His hips were lightly trembling as he realized that was the thinnest part, and he was only going to be stretched more. He wanted to grab him by the neck and push him further in, an urge stifled by his hands moving to squeeze and stroke at the spike he couldn't remember pressurizing, grip tightening on it as Thrust began to move again.

Slowly working the cone further in, drawing back a little when he flinched, pushing forward at a silent desperate plea - a little rhythm that lived up to his name.

" _Fuck_." Was all he could think to say when the tip ground painfully into the nodes at the top of his valve.

"Ffuh?" Thrust answered, lips directly against his distended outer rim.

 _Everything_ was distended. He could feel the smooth metal pressing into the metal beyond the soft walls. His valve clenched, and he shuddered at the lack of give. He was.. for a lack of a better word, _stuffed._

It hurt, but it felt so good.

A warm, wet glossa began to work on the outer nodes, a mouth licking and sucking on the isolated nubs stretched too far apart from each other. Hands massaged the rim, sending a surge of pleasure and a low swell of lubricant through his valve, turning the tides more towards feeling good than pain.

Slowly he began to roll his hips, thighs coming to close on the Conehead's shoulders to keep him from getting away. Not that he was trying to get away, of course, jerking his helm back and forth in short, stabbing thrusts, nipping a node or two on the backswing.

They must have looked ridiculous. Astrotrain was far beyond caring.

One hand gripped his spike, the other dug into Thrust's backplates as he rode him as hard as he would any regular mech. Optics powered down to let him drink in the throbbing pressure without the distracting visuals, processor painting the picture of a certain massive white shuttle bearing down on him. He leaned back and arched up, and tiny fingers scrabbled and latched into his hip joints to keep the rhythm going uninterrupted.

Somewhere along the way the living dildo began to vibrate, the tell-tale sound of turbines turning up full blast. His own engines hitched, jerking a bit harder than he'd intended as vibrations rattled throughout his over-stretched, too sensitive valve, jarring his whole damn pelvic span and jolting up his backstruts. Thrust couldn't move as well anymore, so he was letting his engines do the talking.

 _Primus_ , he had to remember that trick.

His thighs clenched, hard, on the Seeker's shoulders as overload ripped through him valve-first, trapping the still-rattling cone deep inside him until the vibrations were gone and it was just his hips shaking.

His hand was wet, his aft was wet, and, as he tugged his helm free with a loud _squelch_ , Thrust was quite wet. The shuttle powered his optics back on in time to catch the sight of the poor bastard pretty much _soaked_ in his fluids, reaching blindly for a rag from his trinemate.

"Heh.. sorry about that." Was all he could think to say, slowly propping himself up on his elbows.

His panel and his valve was still hanging wide open, and he was a bit too comfortable to care. His friends were his friends for a reason, after all - no one else cared. It looked like a couple of them had started getting rather into it.

Skywarp chuckled and handed him another cube, optics focused on the other end of the train. "Yeah that was pretty nice.. but can you take _two_ cones?"

A long moment, and though his vents were running ragged, that half-cocked bad decision grin came back to the shuttle's lips.

"Is that a challenge~?"


End file.
